Love me, love my llamas!
Owning a llama sanctuary has made one woman very happy
‘Every morning, come rain or shine, I head down to the field to greet my llamas. When I arrive, they’re waiting for me at the gate, all 13 of them, looking at me with their big, long-lashed eyes as if to say, “Excuse me, what time do you call this?” As they hungrily munch down their hay, I lean against the wooden fence and smile to myself. I never would have thought that this is where my life would lead me: standing in this mud among these crazy creatures of habit. But, given how much my llamas have helped both me and those around me, I wouldn’t change it for the world.
It all started nearly 20 years ago when my husband, Jon, and I stopped off at Ashdown Llama Farm in Sussex for a coffee, mainly because I’d heard they had a good cafe! But when we spotted the llamas, I fell in love. With their long necks, shaggy coats, goofy teeth and quizzical expressions, they were irresistible. I couldn’t rest until I got one as a pet, even though I’d never even had a dog or cat before! I began to
Excuse me, what time do you call this? ‘Getting down into the muddy fields with my llamas kept me sane’
nag Jon and two years later, we rented a field near our home and along came Dotty and Monty.
I soon learned that llamas are intelligent and gentle animals and, in fact, I loved being with them so much that I signed up to be a re-homing coordinator for the British Llama
Society, alongside my job as a mobile chiropodist. It wasn’t long before I rescued 11 more llamas whose owners had either passed away or couldn’t handle them any more. People wondered if I knew what I was taking on, but I’m glad I didn’t listen to them because, in the end, my rescue llamas rescued me.
CARING COMPANY
When I had my first child, Harry, in 2004, I suffered from postnatal depression, ending up in hospital at one stage because of sheer exhaustion, as well as migraines so bad that I was losing my vision. For me, it was getting down into the muddy fields with my llamas that kept me sane. The only time I felt in control of things was when I was with them in the stables or taking them to llama shows. When I’d go out and work in the fields, I’d strap Harry in a car seat and carry him out with me, plonking him on top of a bale of hay!
Jim, one of our older llamas, took a liking to sitting down next to Harry to keep an eye on him (as llamas are herbivores, I never had to worry about Harry’s safety). He’s known as the sensitive one of the group, so if
Harry woke up crying, Jim would start humming, which I learned means, “I don’t like this” in llama speak. He’d come over to me and hum louder – it was like having my own childminder. Jim is 18 years old now and, while llamas only tend to live for 20 years, he’s still going strong.
Harry first learned to stand by pulling himself up on the stable fences and growing up, both he and his younger brother, James, born three years later, have come to know and love the llamas. Now aged 10 and 13, they each have a llama that they’re responsible for, which is great for getting them outdoors and away from their computers and Playstation. Having the llamas has taught the boys life skills: they know how to quickly make something waterproof or how to stack hay. It also builds their confidence because they’ll come to llama shows with me and lead them around the ring. People often ask them their questions, rather than me, because a little person with a big llama is quite a sight. James even won a show last year, which has always been my ambition – funny that my 10-year-old did it before me!
Renting fields and caring for the llamas can be quite costly – up to
£300 per month – so in order to finance my beloved animals, I learned how to spin the wool that comes from shearing and grooming them, and use it to knit hats and scarves, which I then sell for around £25 each.
‘The joy my llamas spread is truly infectious’
And because the llamas helped me so much in the past, I knew they could do the same for others, so I decided to set up an adoption scheme. It received a lot of interest, so finally, in 2015, Jon and I managed to buy a house with eight acres of land. I was thrilled to have the llamas close by at last. That was the beginning of Hill House Llamas, our sanctuary, which has spread so much joy.
ANIMAL MAGIC
When people adopt a llama, which is £38 a year, they come here and have a go at grooming, feeding and walking them. It’s so special to see my animals improving the lives of those who spend time with them.
Llamas are very good with the elderly, because they’re so gentle. There was a lovely gentleman called Roy, who suffered badly from Alzheimer’s. Before he sadly passed away a few years ago, he was a chiropody patient of mine who I’d taken to see the llamas. After that, whenever I’d go to see him, he’d become animated because he’d remember the llamas, even though he couldn’t remember anything else. The nursing home staff said they’d never seen him so enthused; it was touching.
There’s also a little 12-year-old girl who is having a very hard time in school. She’s adopted one of our llamas, Hattie, and her mum tells me that whenever she’s feeling low, she’ll look at pictures of her and it will cheer her up no end. She’s even got a framed photo of Hattie on her bedroom wall.
Llamas make such great therapy animals that I regularly take them on visits to local nursing homes.
I can usually trust that they’ll behave themselves, although I have discovered they have a penchant for pink flowers – once Hattie waited for the moment I was distracted and then made a beeline for a bright pink bouquet, given to a lady for her
80th birthday. Hattie ate it before
I could catch her! I was mortified, but everyone else found it hilarious.
That’s the thing with llamas – they’ve got such great personalities that it’s hard not to love them. Each one of them has a different character: there’s Emily, the girly one; Alex, the drama queen; and Riley, the bossy one. I have a particular bond with Ollie, who I had to hand-rear after his mother died giving birth to him. He sees me as a surrogate mum, which is brilliant if I’m trying to get him to do something, but equally he’s a teenager now and so he has tantrums and likes to show off!
Every morning when I see those little faces in the field, I feel grateful and proud to have the llamas in my life. Most have been saved from an uncertain future, and the joy they spread is truly infectious. I might look after rescue llamas, but it’s them who do the real rescuing.’